


Never try to outstubborn a cat

by keita52



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cats, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11844348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/pseuds/keita52
Summary: Anders thinks he's found the perfect cat for Fenris - a scarred, hissing, mean cat.Oddly enough, he's right.





	Never try to outstubborn a cat

The cat was a wary creature, lurking in corners for a few weeks before it stood still long enough for Anders to get a good look at it. Its fur was a smoky gray color, the few streaks of darker color smeared across its side probably from dirt. The tip of one ear was missing and the eye beneath that ear scarred to the point of being unusable. Rib bones were visible underneath its skin, and it had a long, nasty-looking gash across its back.

Anders thought of Ser-Pounce-a-Lot and put out what scraps he could spare, hoping to gain its trust. A few days of food lowered the cat’s defenses enough for Anders to grab it by the scruff and haul it inside. The cat protested this treatment most vigorously, squirming in Anders’ grasp, back claws drawing blood where they raked against Anders’ arms.

“Hey! I’m trying to help you!”

The cat pulled its lips back and hissed, saliva dripping from its yellowed fangs.

Anders placed the cat on one of the exam tables and muttered a few quick words, conjuring up a spell to hold it in place. A plaintive yowl and soft angry mutterings greeted this development.

“I know, I know,” Anders muttered, gently touching the edge of the gash.

The cat whipped around and sank its fangs into Anders’ hand, even though he would have sworn that wasn’t possible with the spell on it. Anders yelped and backed away. Tail swishing, the cat crouched low on the table and stared at him with its one good eye. Anders had a brief moment of fear where he wondered if the cat was actually _possessed_ \-- but no, it was just a trick of the light. Justice would have known instantly if there was a demon.

“That’s your name,” Anders said, moving behind the cat. A rumble escaped its throat as its head turned to watch his movements. “Demon.”

The newly-named Demon hissed. “Too bad. You can’t talk, so you don’t get to pick the name.” Anders moved slowly, touching the skin near the gash and gently moving his fingers closer. The cat’s unhappy growl grew louder by the second, but it didn’t reach back to bite this time. Anders reached over and grabbed one of the ointments he’d made up, rubbing it gently on the open wound. The growl turned into shrieking yowls. Wincing, Anders finished his work. “That’ll scar, you know.”

The swish of the tail seemed to say, _So? What’s one more scar?_

“It does show that you’re a tough one, Demon.” The yowls followed Anders as he walked back to close the clinic doors and windows. “You’re staying here overnight. You might need more of that ointment,” he explained, coming back to release the spell that held the cat immobile.

Demon bounded off the table and headed straight for the door, protesting loudly when he (Anders got a good look underneath the cat during the flight) discovered that it could not be budged, no matter how vigorously his paw moved.

Anders walked into the pantry and brought out some meat scraps, which he put in a bowl on the floor. “Here, Demon.” The cat ignored him. Sighing, Anders turned around and started getting ready for bed. There were no overnight patients in the clinic -- aside from Demon, anyway. It meant he finished his preparations quickly and bedded down, falling asleep almost instantly as he usually did.

* * *

The smell woke him in the middle of the night. A strong, acrid stench that seemed to be right next to his face. Anders opened his eyes and scrambled backwards from the glowing green monster in front of him. Then his brain caught up with his surroundings.

“Demon! What did you do?”

The cat finished peeing on Anders’ sheets and hopped down to the floor, moving out into the main room. “No no no no no!”

Demon peed on three more beds before Anders caught him. “Dammit, what am I going to do with you?” The cat was a mean bastard, but that didn’t mean Anders could in any way justify letting him loose in Darktown. He’d be killed, sooner or later, probably in a violent and gruesome manner.

Anders moved the wriggling, hissing, spitting cat into a box and sealed it magically, then used a knife to cut holes in the sides. Demon continued to protest this indignity at the top of his lungs.

“Don’t you know when someone is trying to help you?” As soon as the words left him, Anders realized that the cat reminded him of someone. Darktown wasn’t safe, but Hightown was -- and there was a certain prickly elf whose sheets could use a good piss.

Anders resisted the urge to whistle as he grabbed the box with the still-yowling Demon and left his clinic.

* * *

The gray cat sauntered into the room like this was _his_ mansion. Fenris raised an eyebrow at his unexpected visitor, halting on his way to the kitchen for breakfast. “How did you get in?” he asked, even as he cataloged the long list of windows that were still not adequately boarded up.

Green eye fully dilated, the cat stared at Fenris for a few long seconds before it let out a hiss.

Fenris shrugged and kept going into the kitchen, rummaging around until he found something resembling a meal. As he worked, he heard the soft patter of feet behind him. Following an impulse he didn’t really understand, Fenris pulled out a second plate and started loading chopped meat on it for the cat. He turned around and placed the plate on the floor. The cat stared at him. “You are clearly a brave warrior,” he said to it, looking at the mangled ear and blinded eye, as well as a wound on its back that looked to be in the process of healing. “You deserve this.”

The cat’s gaze flicked between Fenris, and the food, even after Fenris had taken a seat and started in on his meal. He had almost finished eating when he heard the cat walk over and start in on the meat. A smile crossed his face as he cleaned up. In the early years of living in this mansion, he’d just tossed the plates wherever there was space, but Hawke had eventually nagged him into _some_ organization and cleanliness.

Fenris went outside to the well in the courtyard and filled a bowl with fresh water, then came back inside and left it at the door to the kitchen. He had no idea if the cat would decide to stay or not, so he went about his usual routine as though the cat weren’t there.

Mid-afternoon, he came back from an excursion out into the market and found a dead rat in the middle of the living room. The cat stood next to the rat, using its paw to clean its face. It looked at Fenris as he approached.

“I thank you, warrior,” Fenris said, inclining his head at the cat. “The rats have truly been pests recently.”

The cat sneezed and went back to cleaning itself. Fenris noted that the water bowl was mostly empty and went about filling it once more.

He went through the same routine at dinner that he had at breakfast: put a plate down for the cat and walk away. This time, the cat didn’t hesitate to run over and start eating. Fenris took his time with his meal, sneaking glances at the cat. At one point, the cat looked up as Fenris was glancing over. Fenris stilled, waiting for the cat to bolt.

It didn’t, and he felt an unexpected warmth in his chest as he realized the cat intended to stay. “Fog,” he said. “Your name is Fog.” For the Fog Warriors that had taken him in when he escaped from Danarius.

The cat finished eating and sauntered over to the table, rubbing against Fenris’ legs. Fenris heard a soft rumble and felt the vibration of Fog’s purr. “I’m glad you approve.”

When he went up to bed, Fog followed him, jumping onto the bed and claiming a corner for himself. He went in circles, tugging at the blanket until he had made himself a nest, then curled up with his tail underneath his chin.

Fenris went to sleep with a smile on his face.

He woke to a weight on his chest. A warm, vibrating weight.

Fenris opened his eyes and stared into Fog’s face. The cat blinked its good eye at him and let out an even louder purr than before.

Slowly, Fenris removed one arm from under the covers, moving his hand towards Fog’s back. He ran his fingers across the soft fur.

Fog shifted and continued to purr. Through a slow trial and error, spending more time awake in that bed than he ever had before, Fenris discovered that Fog loved having his chin and ears scratched.

When his stomach started to grumble, Fenris reluctantly shifted out of bed. Fog let out a sound in protest. “I am sorry,” Fenris said. “I am sure that you will forgive me as soon as I put out your breakfast.”

Fog meowed and trotted off. He returned after breakfast with another dead rat, looking very pleased with himself as he placed it in the exact same spot as the day before. Fenris bent and held out his hand. Fog walked over, rubbing the side of his head against Fenris’ fingers and leaning into the scratch Fenris gave his chin.

“I don’t know how you chose my mansion,” Fenris said quietly, a warmth seeming to well up from some long-forgotten place inside him, “but I think I am very glad you did.”

* * *

No one was more surprised than Anders to see Fenris enter the Hanged Man with a gray cat on his shoulder.

Technically, the cat was in a bag slung over Fenris’ shoulder, but his head was resting against Fenris’ neck, green eye wide as he took in the loud atmosphere.

“Broody! When did you get a _cat_?” Varric demanded.

“Fog showed up in my house two days ago.” Anders spit out the mouthful of ale he’d been drinking.

“Oh! He’s lovely,” Merrill cooed, coming over and offering a hand for Demon -- _Fog_ ’s inspection. The cat sniffed at it, then let out a contented purr as Merrill gently patted his head.

“He is a fine companion.” Maker’s balls, Fenris sounded _happy_. Anders could only watch, dumbstruck, as Fenris lifted the cat out of the bag and placed him on the bench next to him.

“Creators! Aren’t you afraid he’s going to run off?”

Fenris chuckled. “He knows where the food comes from.”

Fog hopped down and began a systematic inspection of everyone at the table, sniffing hands and accepting the attention lavished on him. He walked under the table to continue his inspection.

When the cat reached Anders, there was a sharp pain and the sound of fabric tearing, followed by the sound of piss streaming onto Anders’ shoes. Anders yelled and stood up, staring down at his legs in disbelief.

Fenris picked Fog up and cuddled -- _cuddled!_ \-- the cat against his chest. “I guess he doesn’t like you.” His eyes met Anders’. “More proof of his excellent taste.”

Fog hissed at Anders, and then, somehow, the entire thing was over with, and no one else seemed to care about what had just happened.

_This Maker-forsaken city is cursed._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Robert A. Heinlein, “Time Enough for Love”
> 
> I couldn't resist this prompt. ;)
> 
> "Anders finds a cat in Darktown. 
> 
> Except it's a complete hellmonster. Spitting and hissing and mauling his legs and pissing on everything he owns. Anders catches evil plan and under the cover of night, manages to get the hellmonster into a sack and to Hightown. Hellmonster is released into Fenris' mansion so the angry spiky things can keep each other company (and so hellmonster can piss on some of Fenris' stuff). 
> 
> Two days later, Fenris shows up in the Hanged Man with hellmonster on his shoulder and purring up a storm. Hellmonster happily accepts treats and pets from everyone and is a friendly, loving cat. 
> 
> Hellmonster then slips under the table, mauls Anders' shins and pisses on his shoes. Anders is certain that this city is cursed."


End file.
